


Favour

by garylovesjohn



Category: Door in the Woods (Video Game)
Genre: Apocalypse, Blood, Coming Untouched, Cutting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Doppelganger, Ecstasy of Death, Eldritch, End of the World, Ero Guro, Fondling, Horror, Insanity, Lovecraftian, Other, Pursuer - Freeform, Quantum Mechanics, Self-Indulgent, The Void, Weirdness, black holes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garylovesjohn/pseuds/garylovesjohn
Summary: An occultist gets noticed.
Relationships: Occultist (Door in the Woods)/Puzzle Box Presence (Door in the Woods)
Kudos: 2





	Favour

**Author's Note:**

> Is getting annihilated and becoming a black hole your kink?  
> If so, this is the fic for you. (⌐■_■)  
> Don't expect actual sex though. The end of the universe is its own reward.
> 
> Also yeah, if you've never played the final chapter of Door in the Woods, this might not make much sense.

All his life, he had sought the truth. Even as a child, he had felt like he did not belong in this world. Everyone a stranger to him, even his own family. As such, he had grown into a morose adult. Pushing away those who loved him. Nobody brought him joy.

He had abandoned everything to the pursuit of a greater purpose. To the study of the occult and its forbidden secrets.

And through diligent experiences, he had glimpsed the endless tracts of the beyond. Had finally caught but a fleeting little spark of his potential.

Yet, in his pride, he believed himself the master of such contradictory powers.

He had not expected that something would notice him. Something incomprehensible. Something far more twisted than anything he could have ever imagined.

It had all happened as if by accident.

Or perhaps it was destiny.

The occultist had found the ruins of an old abandoned town. A place that did not appear on any maps. In the middle of the woods, overgrown, overtaken by putrid swamps, as if sinking into the accursed ground.

This place was calling to him.

As if entranced, he walked down the quiet streets, hearing only his footsteps. No birds, no animals, no insects, not even wind. There was not a breeze to be felt, yet the trees all swayed eerily in the reddening dusk.

After a little while, he entered an old house and rummaged through the very few remaining pieces of furniture. As if his hands were guided somehow, he opened a dusty desk and found a note inside.

Underneath lay a strange mechanical cube. Its bone-white ornamental facets intricate and sharp. The hastily scribbled paper warned to let the eldritch puzzle box be. The previous owner, it seemed, had gone to the ruins north of the park to find some answers as to how to close the thing. That whoever read this note had to go in his stead for it meant that he had failed to return.

The occultist looked at his find quizzically. It was not open, so perhaps the person had been successful.

But then why leave such a warning?

Instinctively, his eager fingers danced feverishly upon the surface of the box. The sharp mechanism easily cut into his skin, but he found a strange pleasure through the pain. The craftsmanship was impressively detailed and the object unfolded in a way that should not have been possible.

And then it stopped, jammed in place. 

Uneventful, he thought, disappointed. Such a promising-looking object yielded no results.

Until he felt it.

Someone, or rather something, was staring at him.

Approaching.

His hair stood on end at the back of his neck. An otherworldly chill ran down his spine.

Dread filled him as he realized what a terrible mistake he had just made.

What was done could not be undone. The mechanism would not close again no matter how hard he tried. His bleeding hands frantically trying to shut whatever he had unleashed.

A whisper came into his mind. A distorted threnody filled with pity and longing. There were no human words to the lamentful chant, yet he somehow understood its meaning. He discerned sentences in the voiceless falsetto.

  
C̫͈̤͇͙͇̰͓̍̔ͮ̄̏͝O̴̤̘̺̟͓̪̽ͦ͆͡M̝̩̠̰͙̰̞ͦ͛̿̋̂̆ͫ͜Ḝ͔̼ͩ ͍͔̮̮͍̗̤̩̫ͣ̑ͬͦ̂I̬̖͙̤̓̈̒̀͆̈N̛͉͎̭͓̔̈́̏͒̓Ṭ͖͚͈͑̌̏͂̌ͤͪ̌̀͠͞Ǫ̸͇̝̩̹͕͇̭̯̪̾̆͢ ̵̡̠͚̭͖̬͔ͮ̿ͨͣ̓͗ͅM̰̯̞͕̏̉͗͂͊̕Y̨̹̮ͨͣͮ̐̕ ̡̬ͦͨ͐̑̍͞A͊ͯͥ͏͔̲̣͎͇̙̼̜͡R̓̑̋̂ͬ̋̿͘͠͏͉̱̯̩̪̘̗M̒ͬͯ͜͏̠͇S̶̮̳̺͓͖͍͍̪̾̐̓̓ͤ.̵̼̺̙̩͙̰ͣͪ̾ͅ

  
Panicked, he glanced over his shoulder.

Something was behind him.

Startled, he ran away. Resisting the urge to just obey the being's words.

Against his better judgment, he kept looking back at his pursuer. Like his mind could not process that something was truly there whenever he looked away. He could still feel its gaze. Its presence. His skin tingled. The air tasted like before a thunderstorm. The dreadful song bore a corkscrew hole in the fragile matter of his brain.

He didn't even know what he was looking at.

Its skin like lacquered darkness. A black so deep, so perfect, the being appeared to be a vaguely humanoid-shaped tear through the fabric of reality. The emptiness gazed beyond was infinite and terrifying, yet so inviting.

The being floated weightlessly a couple inches above the ground. Like a limp puppet hanging from invisible strings. It moved gently, like the flow of a tranquil river, only to suddenly appear much closer than it was before. Not like it was teleporting. Not like it was moving faster than the eyes could see. But rather like space and time just shrank around it. A distortion of reality that had the occultist question if his pursuer had even moved at all.

The fact that he could not shake it was proof enough that it had.

The occultist could not decipher the being's face. If he focused his gaze upon it, it seemed to blur, to become impossible. Once contorted, then nothing but a gored, empty hole through which he could catch a glimpse of the great cosmos. However, when he did not look at it directly, there seemed to truly be a face there. Painted with an expression unlike any human emotion.

Sometimes, he could swear that he was staring at his own reflection, but somehow twisted in an uncanny, indescribable way. Other times he felt like the being wore the face of someone he knew, but somehow could not remember. Foreign yet familiar. But wrong, always wrong. He could not express what was so strange about it, for as soon as the visage was out of his peripheral vision, his brain could not piece together what it had just witnessed. 

Thus it remained a mystery.

The more he ran, the more he knew he would never be free. Although the being he had unwittingly unleashed made no effort to keep up with his pace, the occultist was absolutely certain that it would never stop. It was a force of nature. As certain as the sunrise or the oncoming tide. The chase would be endless. Wherever he went, the being would see.

Winded, coughing, he slowed down, bent in two.

Why was he even fleeing?

What was he so afraid of?

All his life, he had strove to reach the apotheosis of knowledge. To open his mind to the endless possibilities. To bend the world to his whims. To be liberated from a damnation of certainty.

But now that he was faced with the reality of it, he was hesitating.

He was terrified.

All that remained was the moment where he would join this being in its ecstasy. To abandon himself fully, body and soul, to its grander purpose.

Tears rolled down his reddened cheeks. He let the puzzle box fall to the pavement at his feet.

In the blink of an eye, he and his pursuer were face to face.

His eyes could still not process what they were seeing. His mind came undone from trying so hard to figure it out. To somehow rationalize the impossible.

Black hands touched him under his skin, leaving a trail of pinpricks in their wake. They did not need a wound as entrypoint. They reached within as if immaterial. But they were so dreadfully present. He could see them travelling under his skin, detaching it from the muscles in impossible ways.

It should have hurt, and perhaps it did, but all he felt was pleasure. A strange, warm comfort as he was caressed so closely.

So intimately.

He smiled, feeling the very tether of his life being toyed with. Stumbling like a drunken fool on the brink between existence and absence. Elegant fingers dancing so casually amidst the incense smoke that was his very soul. A dizzying waltz of pure bliss beyond anything he could process.

The air around them seemed to shimmer whenever they touched. The scenery shifted in bizarre ways.

Not only were those hands unravelling his DNA, unmaking the person he was. Annihilating the human genome at the source. Rewriting him into nothingness. They also perverted the very reality around. Things began to make less and less sense.

Turning his eyes skyward, he noticed every star was in the wrong place. Each an eye gazing as the normalcy was stripped from the world around them.

Although his sanity had been torn to shreds, he understood that he was the key to all this.

He, a living being, was the anchor. The doorway through which this being had to step through. All his life, all his research, his thirst for knowledge. He had called this entity forth into his mind. His eyes the mere keyhole through which it had spied upon his world.

And, gracious for this opening, it now granted the occultist what he had always sought.

He should have been mortified that, in his hubris, he had brought upon the end of not only this world, but this entire reality. The whole universe would collapse onto him.

Yet he rejoiced.

Embraced by the end of all things. Touched deep within with a desire that surpassed that of a person. A love, devoid of sense, yet unadulterated. A feeling only something which had never been human could experience.

His body began to crumble. Slowly vaporized into sable particles dissolving into the vanishing air. The less he became, the more intense his climax. A peak of vertiginous proportions. All torments and pains in his life erased like he had never existed.

His material form disappeared, leaving the very reality in which he once stood wide open. A deep cut, like a gushing wound, through which existence itself bled out into nothing.

He was far beyond now. His mind having merged with that of the being which he had invited into this world. He joined the pure revelry of countless before him. An infinite number of realities, of universes, of possibilities, all consolidated into one.

Humanity swept away in a fraction of a second. Less than dust and ignorant of its fate until the very end. Everything that ever was or could have been, disappeared without a trace. Nothing had ever mattered.

Now the being would seek another door.

Another reality for the void.


End file.
